Room for One More
by dnachemlia
Summary: Written as a NFA Hangman prize for WriterKos. Summary: McGee suffers from a recurring nightmare.
1. Chapter 1

Title: **Room for One More**

NFA hangman prize for WriterKos.

Characters: Tim-centric, plus the rest of the crew

Genre: Supernatural/Angst

Rating: FR 13

Warnings: The usual weirdness

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

I intended this to be a long oneshot, but my muse had other ideas. I know better than to argue with her. Anyway, this will two chapters long, possibly with an epilogue.

Summary: McGee is plagued by a recurring nightmare.

* * *

_The invariable mark of a dream is to see it come true._

_- Ralph Waldo Emerson_

"…_room for one more…"_

Tim McGee awoke with a gasp and bolted upright, his heart hammering in his chest. He glanced around the darkened room with wide terrified eyes, almost expecting to see a horrible apparition, but he was alone. After several deep breaths and a few moments to calm his racing heart, he managed a shaky laugh.

_Stupid…_

He hadn't awoken from a nightmare in such a state since he was a kid, and he currently had no idea why this one was so disturbing. It had started out fairly simple: he had been standing at his window, looking out at the dark street below, when a black van had pulled up to the curb outside. The driver wasn't visible, but soon he heard a door creak open and after a few moments of silence, a figure had emerged from the darkness and walked around the front of the van. It stopped in front of his window and looked up. The sight of the pale, gaunt, black-eyed face had caused his heartbeat to gallop as it smiled knowingly up at him. After a moment of silence, the figure pointed to the van and the doors opened to reveal the bodies of the dead and decomposing waiting within. It turned its attention back to him, grinned maliciously, and whispered the four words that had followed him back to the waking world before the entire scene vanished in an explosion of darkness.

He shook his head and checked the clock on his nightstand: 02:13. Sighing deeply, he lay back down on the bed and closed his eyes. Only an hour of sleep was not enough to face the day, especially since they were finishing up a case and Gibbs had been on a tear to close this one out quickly. Tim rolled over onto his side and tried to erase the dream from his mind so he could go back to sleep but he tossed and turned for what seemed like hours before finally giving up. He couldn't shake the pervasive feeling of dread the dream had created.

_Maybe a shower and a cup of strong coffee will help. _

He rose from his bed and stumbled to the bathroom so he could get ready for another long day at work.

XXX

Tim had been at work for several hours before the rest of the team showed up. He had managed to catch up on quite a bit of paperwork, and had then done a little research on dreams. What he found was not particularly helpful and he sighed in frustration.

"Problem, Probie?"

"No, just trying to finish up this case report." He quickly switched to his case report as Tony wandered over.

"That report looks done already."

"Never hurts to double check," he snapped.

"Whoa. What's with you, McGrumpy?"

"Nothing. I didn't get much sleep last night."

"Gotta learn to step away from the keyboard, Elf Lord."

Tim didn't bother to respond. He was saved from further comments by the arrival of Gibbs.

"Gear up. Dead Petty Officer at Pax River."

Glad for the distraction, Tim grabbed his bag and followed Gibbs to the elevator. Once the team was inside, Tony started in again, but one glare from Gibbs silenced the senior agent, and Tim breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

The scene itself was fairly straightforward, and as he followed the routine of "bagging and tagging", the memory of the strange dream was pushed to the back of Tim's mind. The rest of the day was spent tracking down records of the deceased in an attempt to discern why someone had stabbed the twenty-nine year old, yet still baby-faced officer. Working through the night with only a brief respite to go get dinner, Tim managed to unearth some major discrepancies in the man's financial records. More searching revealed a gambling problem and several overdue debts, upon which someone had apparently decided to collect.

The team tracked down the holders of the officer's IOUs and, after spending time in interrogation with Gibbs, one had cracked. It was near midnight of the second day of the case by the time they had completed the preliminary paperwork, and Tim's lack of sleep was definitely catching up to him. When they finally got the Boss's nod to leave, Tim was quite ready for a quick dinner at home and a good night's sleep.

XXX

"…_room for one more…"_

Tim barely managed to contain a scream as he shot up in bed, sweat dotting his brow and chest aching. It took longer to recover from the dream this time, as the feelings of anxiety and dread gripped him like the claws of a recalcitrant feline. He rubbed a hand over his face and paused for only a moment before tumbling out of bed and rushing for the bathroom, where what little he had managed to eat for dinner made a sudden reappearance. He leaned, shaking, against the basin until the nausea subsided and then staggered to his feet. As he started to leave the bathroom, he caught a glance of himself in the mirror and stared in shock at his ashen appearance.

_What's wrong with me?_

He _still_ had no idea why this particular dream was affecting him so strongly. He wondered if it was just being amplified by the stresses of the job, or was indicative of some other problem. Finally, after several minutes of searching through his mind for some clue as to the dream's true significance, he decided to talk to someone else about it, someone he trusted.

XXX

Once again, Tim arrived at work long before anyone else on the team. The security guard gave him a curious look, but nothing else was said when he signed in at 0400. After a couple of hours of work, he made his way down to autopsy to wait for Ducky.

When the M.E. arrived, he was at first surprised, then obviously concerned by Tim's presence.

"Timothy! What brings you down here so early?"

"Hey, Ducky. I…I need to talk to you."

"Of course, dear boy. Let me get a pot of tea started and then we may chat."

Tim watched as Ducky performed his morning ritual and as soon as the tea was steeping, the older man returned his attention to the agent.

"Now, what is troubling you? I must say, you do not look at all well. Have you been feeling under the weather?"

"No, I just haven't been sleeping very much. I was wondering if there could be some underlying medical cause for…nightmares."

"What sort of nightmares?"

Tim described the version that had disrupted his sleep twice in the past three nights.

"I know it doesn't sound all that bad, but when I wake up, it feels so much worse than it should. Do you have any idea what could cause that?"

"Physically, there isn't much that could, other than use of certain drugs which I'm sure is not an issue here. Some studies have indicated that low cholesterol levels may contribute, due to an effect on hormones in the body and neurotransmitters such as serotonin. Generally nightmares are more often associated with psychological issues, particularly stress and anxiety, or perhaps post-traumatic stress disorder."

"I've been stressed before. It's part of the job. I'm just trying to figure out why these have started all of a sudden."

"Perhaps something has occurred recently that has a more personal connection?"

"Not that I can remember. It's been pretty routine lately."

"Take some time to think about it. Perhaps the source is not immediately obvious, but may take some time to unearth. Once you do figure out the cause, it will be much easier to work around it. In the mean time, make sure you maintain as healthy a routine as possible. Lack of sleep can be quite detrimental to one's health."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Ducky. Oh, would you mind not mentioning this to anyone else? You know how they are, and…"

"I do. Perfectly understandable, but if this doesn't resolve itself soon, I trust you will do what is necessary."

"Got it. Thanks again, Ducky."

Tim left autopsy and returned to his desk. He was glad to see the rest had not arrived yet, which offered him some time to think. He went over all of the most recent cases, trying to find something that could have stirred such a strong response, but luck escaped him once again.

He managed to make it through the rest of the day without dozing off as he completed the final paperwork for both recent cases, but by the end of the day he was dragging. Tony noticed his exhaustion and started to rag on him, but Tim was really not in the mood for it and left as soon as he could. Unfortunately Tony decided to follow him.

"Hey, Probie!"

"What?" Tim kept walking, focused on getting home and to bed.

"Man, what is _wrong_ with you?"

Tim nearly growled in frustration as he turned to face his partner.

"What's wrong with me? I'm _tired_. I heading home and I would like to get there as soon as I can so I can get some sleep. Any other questions?" He resumed his trek to his car and winced. He'd pay for that tomorrow, he knew, but sometimes the direct approach was the only way to deal with his perpetually nosy co-worker. He made it to his car and turned around, only to find that Tony was gone.

XXX

"…_room for one more…"_

Tim was out of bed and on his feet before he even realized it and rushed for the bathroom where he once again lost what little dinner he'd been able to choke down. When he finished, he leaned against the bathroom wall and pounded a fist on the floor in frustration.

"This is ridiculous," he whispered in anger. "Why won't it just _stop_?"

He checked his watch and groaned. He'd only managed to get two more hours of sleep to add to his meager total for the week, and he knew there would be no more gained that night. He staggered to his feet, rinsed out his mouth in the sink, and splashed some water on his face, then walked to his desk and sat down in front of his computer. He started checking for more dream interpretation websites, but the information in them didn't seem to fit his situation, was essentially useless, or even contradictory. The only thing he could gather was that apparently he was anxious about something or perhaps was dreading change. Not helpful. After several hours of fruitless searches, he shut down the computer and headed back to his room to get ready for work.

The only relief he got that day was from Tony's chatter. The man seemed to have taken the hint and left Tim alone for most of the day. Tim himself was too busy to notice.

Another call out, this time for a missing Marine sergeant, occupied the team for the rest of the day. Once back from the original scene Tim set to work with the searches, but this time he could barely keep his eyes open. He watched the information scroll across the screen, hoping for something that would help close this case quickly.

The sudden slap of a palm on his desk startled Tim out of his daze and when he looked up he was staring directly into a pair of cold blue eyes. He blushed, more flustered than he had been in years.

"McGee."

"Yeah, Boss?"

"With me."

He stumbled after Gibbs and glanced back at Tony, expecting to see a smug smirk on the older man's face, but was surprised to see thinly veiled concern instead.

He stepped into the elevator behind Gibbs and moved to the back, leaning against the wall for support. He hadn't had a "conference" for quite some time, but the old feelings of apprehension returned quickly.

Gibbs flipped the switch to bring the elevator to a half and turned to face Tim.

"Something you want to tell me, McGee? This isn't like you."

"I know. I'm sor…I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

"That why you've been here at 0400 almost all week?" Tim nodded. "How much sleep have you been getting?"

"About two hours a night, if I'm lucky." Tim noticed Gibbs' eyes widen slightly in surprise.

"Why?"

"I…I just can't sleep. Believe me, I've tried."

Gibbs stared at him for a moment and sighed. "Go home, McGee. Go home and _get _some sleep. You're no good to me, the team or yourself in this condition."

"But Boss…"

"It's not open to discussion. Tony and Ziva can cover for you for a change."

"Right. Uh…thanks, Boss." Gibbs just nodded and turned to flip the switch.

When the elevator returned to the bullpen, both men exited and Tim walked to his desk to retrieve his bag and returned to the elevator without looking at his co-workers.

On the way home he stopped to buy some Tylenol PM, hoping a little extra chemical help would allow him to get some sleep. Gibbs was right: he was a hazard to his team and none of them could afford that. He managed to make it home, take the pills, and crawl into bed before the draw of sleep pulled him under. He slept, and eventually he dreamed, but this time the dream changed.

_Standing at his window, looking out at the dark street below…a black van pulling up to the curb outside… a door creaking open…silence…a figure emerging from the darkness and walking around the front of the van…stopping in front of the window…looking up. pale, gaunt, black-eyed face smiling knowingly up at him…the figure pointing to the van and the doors opening to reveal the bodies of the dead and decomposing waiting within…_

_Tim looked closer, and gasped as he finally recognized one of the bodies: it was Tony._

"_NO!" _

The single word tore at his throat as he nearly fell out of bed, heart racing. He put his hands to his face and let out a soft sob.

_No. Nononononono…this can't be happening…_

He fumbled for his phone and opened it, hitting one of the programmed numbers before he could stop himself. It rang several times before a sleepy voice answered.

"_Yeah, DiNozzo?"_

"T-tony?"

"_McGee? What the hell, Probie? It's two in the morning."_

"Sorry. I must have hit your number by accident."

"_Why the hell are you calling __**anyone**__ at two in the morning? Wait…are you drunk-dialing me?"_

"No! No, it was an accident, I swear. I…never mind. Sorry I woke you, and I'll see you tomorrow…well, later today I guess."

"_Wait. Tim?"_

"Yeah?"

"_You want to tell me what's going on?"_

"It's…nothing, Tony. See you later." He disconnected the call before Tony could say anything else.

_Am I going crazy? Is the job finally getting to me?_

Tim was pretty sure he didn't really want the answers to those questions.

XXX

The clock ticked over to 0400 just as Tim entered the bullpen, and he was surprised to find he wasn't alone.

"Ziva? What are you doing here so early?"

"I think I should be asking you that same question, McGee."

"I…I wanted to get caught up on the paperwork from yesterday. You know, since I went home early."

"Gibbs _sent_ you home early. Did it help?"

"A little."

"But not enough. McGee, I know something is troubling you. Please, let me help you. Tell me what is wrong."

"I don't really know, Ziva. Believe me, I wish I did."

"When you _do_ know, you will tell me, yes?"

"I…okay." _I have no idea when that will be, though._

"Good. Now, let us see if we can have something ready for Gibbs when he gets here."

"On it. Ziva?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for trying to help."

"You are welcome, McGee."

XXX

Several hours later, after both Gibbs and Tony had arrived, with the latter commenting on his early morning call, Tim had settled into his normal search routine. He couldn't help glancing at Tony, far too often than was safe, but he just couldn't get the image of the man as he had seen him in the dream out of his head.

Finally, after a series of searches, he found a possible link to the missing Marine. The man had an ex-wife who worked downtown, and from the divorce documents he had been able to find, their parting was due to more than just irreconcilable differences.

"She works at a local law firm: Highwell, Simms, and Turner," he told Gibbs. "The address is 1653 East Cromwell."

"DiNozzo, you and McGee go interview the ex."

Tony raised an eyebrow in surprise, glanced at McGee, and started to say something but was cut off by a glare from Gibbs.

"That wasn't a request. Go."

Both men grabbed their bags and headed for the elevator as Tim fought the sinking feeling in his stomach. This was not going to end well, he could tell already.

Once they had left the Yard, Tony turned toward Tim.

"So, about that little call last night-."

"I told you, it was an accident. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"OK, enough. What is going on with you, Probie? You've been weird all week, and even after Gibbs gave you part of the day off, you still show up to work looking like bottled crap. What gives?"

"Nothing, Tony. I'm just…going through a rough patch. It will clear up." _I really hope so, at least._

"A 'rough patch'? This is more than just a patch, McUnderstatement."

"I'm handling it, Tony."

"No, I don't think you are."

"Whatever." Tim realized he sounded like a petulant child, but he couldn't help it. The fear that had been gnawing at him had deepened, and he _still_ had not identified a concrete source of his anxiety. He didn't need someone looking over his shoulder while he figured it out.

"Tim…"

"Just drop it."

"Fine." The car was silent for the rest of the trip.

XXX

The law offices of Highwell, Simms, and Turner were on the 20th floor of a new thirty story high-rise office building. Tony whistled in surprise when they arrived and looked up at the expanse of glass.

"Man, I'd hate to see the rent for these offices, right Probie?" Tim could only stare in silence as he was filled with a sudden sharp feeling of dread.

"Probie?"

"Yeah, me too," he answered absently.

Tony just shook his head. "Come on, McSpacy. Let's get this over with."

Melissa Carver, the ex-wife of the missing Marine sergeant, was not what they had expected. She expressed regret when she heard that Sgt. Carver was missing and, despite what they had wanted to believe, she appeared to be sincere. After failing to gain anything useful from the woman, Tony gave her his card and told her to be sure to call if she remembered anything else. She ignored the innuendo that came with that statement and bid them good day.

As they walked back out to the elevators, Tim looked around at the expanses of black marble that covered the walls and shivered. For once, Tony didn't seem to notice his discomfort as he pressed the down button and waited in front of the central elevator. Soon a strident _*ding*_ announced its arrival. The black doors slid open and suddenly Tim was gazing into the face of his nightmare. The figure appeared as a woman: black hair, dark eyes, sallow skin, and when she saw the two men, she smiled.

"Room for one more."

Tim stood frozen, unable to move, and for a moment he didn't even breathe. His trance was broken by a rough chuckle from Tony.

"Looks like you're taking the stairs, Probie. Maybe the exercise will wake you up."

He took a step towards the elevator and Tim's paralysis broke. He grabbed Tony's shoulder and pulled him back, away from that horrible face in the elevator. Caught off-balance, Tony stumbled back and crashed into Tim, and both men fell to the floor in a heap. Tim managed to catch a final glimpse of that hateful grin before the black doors slid shut.

Tony disentangled himself from the younger agent and turned to him in surprise and anger.

"McGee! What the-?"

And that was when all Hell broke loose.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: My muse is being contrary and decided that this story needs to have more than two chapters. The rest should be up by next weekend.

To the user who PM'd me and then blocked me from replying: if you truly believe that I "ruined" this fic and now both it and I "suck" because it was not completed when you apparently thought it should be, you need serious help. Get some. If you were trolling, bite me.

Now, back to your regularly scheduled weirdness, with a healthy dose of angst on the side.

* * *

Title: **Room for One More**

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

* * *

Part 2

Gibbs glanced up at the empty desks and checked his watch. DiNozzo and McGee had been gone less than an hour, but his gut still twinged with worry. He was more concerned about the younger agent, however. McGee had been acting odd for nearly a week, and despite his assurances that it was just a problem with sleeping, Gibbs knew there was something else. He also knew he couldn't push the younger man too much, but if DiNozzo didn't have any luck with him, Gibbs was going to drag McGee to the hospital himself to get the young agent checked out.

Something on the bullpen TV caught his eye and he turned to catch a _Breaking News Announcement_. He walked over and turned up the volume.

"…_reports of an explosion in a downtown D.C. office building on the 1600 block of East Cromwell. Authorities are unsure of the cause at this time…"_

"Isn't that…?"

He turned to find Ziva standing behind him, staring in horror at the blurry images on the screen. Gibbs ran to his desk to check the address that McGee had given him, where he had sent his two agents. He found the slip of paper and squinted at the number and word combination: _1653 East Cromwell._

Without a word, he dashed for the elevator with Ziva right at his heels.

XXX

Consciousness returned slowly for Tony as he managed to open his eyes and blink several times. The air around him was infused with dust and faint tendrils of smoke. He could smell something burning and, sincerely hoping it wasn't him, tried to sit up. He groaned as his bruised and battered body protested the sudden change in elevation and he did a quick assessment to determine that all of his body parts were relatively intact. As he peered through the haze he saw that the elegant room, dimly lit by a single functioning emergency light was now in shambles. Chunks of marble and ceiling titles littered the cracked floor and exposed wires in the ceiling sparked and sizzled. The elevator doors were twisted and smoke rose from the depths of the shaft.

Tony tried to get his feet underneath him and as he turned to his right, he froze at the sight of the crumpled, silent form a few feet away.

"McGee?" he choked out as the smoke and dust burned his throat. "Are you OK?"

After receiving no response, he crawled over to his partner and carefully rolled him onto his back. One side of McGee's face was covered with blood, more of which was still leaking from a deep gash above his left eye. Tony felt for a pulse and was relieved to find one, although it was nowhere near as strong or steady as he would have liked. He gently shook McGee's shoulder and tried to rouse him again.

"Come on, Tim, wake up. We've got to get out of here and I don't think I can carry you down twenty flights of steps."

McGee groaned and slowly opened one eye.

"There you go. Up and at 'em, Probie."

"Wha…"

"Pretty sure there was an explosion." McGee immediately tried to sit up and winced.

"B-bomb?"

"Looks like it." Tony nodded towards the elevator shaft. "Probably in there." A look of utter devastation crossed the younger man's face as he tried to sit up again. He managed this time and slowly looked around. Suddenly his eyes widened just as Tony himself registered the faint sounds of screams.

"We have to get them out," McGee said in a panicked voice. "Now." With surprising swiftness he staggered to his feet and swayed as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

"Whoa, buddy, slow down. You're walking wounded." McGee ignored the older man and stumbled towards the suite of offices they had visited. Tony followed as quickly as he could, carefully picking his way through the scattered debris as McGee charged ahead, undeterred. They entered the offices and looked around for signs of life.

"Hello?" called McGee. "Can anybody hear me?" A familiar dust-streaked faced peeked out from behind the receptionist's desk and several more faces slowly emerged from the doors of the offices. McGee reached into his jacket and pulled out his badge. "Federal agents. We're going to get you out of here."

Tony shot his partner a look. McGee sounded almost desperate, and not wholly certain of his own statement, but to Tony's surprise the people in the office responded and soon the pair of agents was joined by three men and four women. The office occupants all appeared to be in shock as they followed the younger agent through the doors and out into the entrance way. Tony heard the women gasp when they saw the devastation but they kept following McGee, who led them to the stairwell on the far side and opened the door. The stairs appeared to be clear and he started to descend, motioning for the group to follow. They made it down two flights before they encountered more debris which was blocking the stairs, but McGee started to push it to one side and Tony and the three men from the office joined him, making short work of the blockage. They descended two more flights and met another group. McGee addressed the entire assembly.

"OK. You all stick together, don't run, and take it slow and steady. You should be able to make it out, but _be careful_. We don't want a pile-up, understand?" The group nodded and continued their descent, while McGee turned and headed back they way they had come.

"McGee! Where are you going?"

"Have to check the rest of the floors. No one else is going to die here." McGee's voice was flat, almost robotic, and that worried Tony almost as much as the random creaks they heard around them as the damaged building protested its recent treatment.

"McGee, there are rescue workers on the way. They're better equipped-." But McGee had vanished around the corner. Tony bit back a curse and followed him. He was relieved to see that nothing else had shifted in the stairwell on the way back up, but he kept a cautious eye out for any sign of imminent collapse. He finally caught sight of McGee just as he rounded another corner and groaned in frustration.

"Slow down, McSpeedy," he yelled as McGee ignored him and kept climbing. Tony was a little winded when they reached the 21st floor but McGee had already moved on. By the time they reached the top floor, Tony was aching all over, and he could see that McGee, who had paused for breath, was white as a sheet under the dust and blood.

"Tim, stop." McGee continued to ignore him and opened the door. They crossed the area with the elevators and entered another suite of offices. A small group of people was huddled just inside the door. They turned, their dazed expressions quickly morphing to alarm when they say the two disheveled men. McGee announced that they were federal agents and there to help, but the group just stared in silence.

"Is there anyone else here?" They shook their heads. "Then let's go." Silence. "NOW!"

The group scrambled to comply and Tony wondered when McGee had started channeling Gibbs. He followed the group down to the next landing and McGee told them to wait while he went to search that floor. Tony followed him and grabbed his arm.

"McGee, slow down. You're scaring the natives. Hell, you're scaring _me_." McGee just shook him off and surged forward. After a moment, Tony followed, praying that the building would hold together long enough for them to get out.

XXX

When Gibbs and Ziva arrived at the scene it was worse than they had expected. The streets surrounding the building were clogged with police cars, emergency vehicles, and gawkers. Gibbs growled in frustration as he pulled the sedan to the curve and got out to stare at the melee. He started walking towards the building, pushing his way through the crowd, and the sight of smoke pouring from the shattered windows prompted to walk faster. He could make out the address of the building and his heart sank as he pushed faster and soon reached the barrier that had been erected by the local police. He flashed his badge to the officer in charge.

"NCIS? Sorry, I don't see how-."

"Two of my agents are in that building. I need to know what happened to them." He could see several emergency crews entering the building while others led shell-shocked victims away and toward a cordoned-off area. The officer pointed towards it.

"Check with the rescue crews. A lot of the people have made it out already."

Gibbs turned and headed towards the staging area. Ziva maintained her worried silence she had kept since they left the office and followed. When they reached the area, they scanned the crowd but saw no sign of Tony or McGee.

"Gibbs? What are you doing here?"

Gibbs turned around and came face to face with Fornell.

"What happened, Tobias?"

The FBI agent shook his head. "We're not sure yet. We got a report of a bomb going off in the building, but we're waiting to get the all clear before we go in. Right now we've been trying to remotely access the building maintenance system to figure out where the problem occurred. Is McGee with you? We could use his help."

"We think he was in the building, along with DiNozzo, when the bomb went off. They were there to interview a witness in one of our cases."

"Ah, crap, Jethro, I'm sorry. I haven't seen them yet, but it depends on where they are. The bomb went off somewhere in the vicinity of the 18th floor elevators, near as we can tell. Where was the witness supposed to be?"

"Some law office: Highwell, Simms, and Turner."

"Twentieth floor."

Both men turned to look at the person who had spoken. It was a man in a security guard uniform. He met their gazes and repeated what he had said.

"Twentieth floor: Highwell, Simms, and Turner. I haven't seen anyone from up there come out yet."

"Let us know when you do," said Fornell.

"Yes, sir."

Fornell returned his attention to Gibbs. "We can always use help with the scene search, but we can't go in yet. I'm sorry, but right now we're all in the same boat: waiting."

"You know I've never been good at that, Tobias."

"Yeah, I know."

XXX

McGee and Tony worked their way down the next five floors, gathering small groups of terrified people at each and guiding them to the stairs. When they reached the 24th floor, Tony saw McGee stop to lean up against the stairwell wall and briefly close his eyes. He took the opportunity to try and talk to his partner.

"Probie, listen to me. We need to get _you_ out of here. The rescue crews are on the way, and-."

"No. It's my responsibility." He pushed away from the wall and swayed slightly before he regained his equilibrium and opened the door.

"Wait, why is it your responsibility?" Tony asked as he followed.

"I should have warned them. I was too slow."

Tony shook his head. _Why did McGee…_ Then he remembered the incident at the elevator.

"You saw the bomb? That's why you pulled me back?"

"No. I didn't see the bomb."

"Then what was it?" McGee didn't answer and walked faster, albeit a bit more unsteadily. "Damn it, Probie, what the hell is going on with you?" He grabbed McGee's arm and spun him around, and almost took a step back when he saw the expression on the younger man's face.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Now can we get going? This building took a hell of a hit and we don't want to be here much longer." He turned and continued towards the offices. Tony followed, worry tearing at his gut. He'd only seen McGee even remotely like this a very few times, when guilt was obviously eating him alive, but this time was so much worse. Tony was woefully out of his depth, and could only hope they would both make it out so McGee could get some real help.

They cleared the floor and the next three below without incident. Each group seemed to be more frightened than the last, but Tony wasn't sure if it was their proximity to the blast or the state of their rescuers. Finally they made it to the 19th floor and when McGee opened the door, he froze. Tony could see that the devastation here was much worse and he started to tell McGee that maybe they should leave this floor to the professionals when they heard the sound of crying. They both cautiously entered the area in front of the elevators and started picking their way across the space, keeping low to avoid the rising smoke. They made it about half-way when they encountered the first body. One glance told Tony the person was beyond hope, but McGee still checked for a pulse. Finding none, he paused for a moment, one hand pressed to his face, before moving on. The sobbing grew louder as they reached the office and when they opened the doors they found a single occupant. She was lying on the floor next to her desk under a large chunk of the ceiling. They quickly moved the debris and saw that she had a gash in her forehead was that bleeding sluggishly, but she otherwise looked unharmed.

"Ma'am? Can you get up?" McGee asked.

"They left me."

"What?"

"They left me. I couldn't move and they just…left me here."

Tony saw a flash of fury in McGee's eyes and he decided to step in.

"Where are you hurt?"

"Everywhere…"

"Ma'am, we're trying to help. Can you try to move?" She slowly sat up, winced, and put her hand to her forehead. She tried to get to her feet and cried out when she put weight on her left leg. The two men helped her to a standing position as she kept her weight off her injured limb.

"I don't think I can make it…"

"You'll make it," said McGee, and the woman flinched slightly at his tone. He put her arm over his shoulder and his arm around her waist. "I'll make sure you're not left again."

"Tim, are you sure you can handle this? You look ready to keel over," asked Tony.

"I'm fine. Let's go."

The trio carefully made their way to the stairs and started down, with McGee practically carrying the woman. Tony really hoped the rescue crews would make it up to their level soon, or he'd probably have to carry both the woman _and_ his partner.

At the next level, McGee handed the woman off to Tony and started to open the door, but Tony grabbed his arm when he saw the heat shimmering around the door.

"No, Tim. Look. The whole floor is probably on fire. You open that and you'll flash-fry us."

McGee stared at the door for a moment and then turned to his partner, stretching out one arm to indicate he would take over helping the woman again. Tony shook his head. "I've got her."

"Cynthia…my name is Cynthia."

"I've got you, Cynthia. Let's go, Tim."

After one final look at the door, McGee followed. They descended to the next level and Tony saw a similar halo of heat around the door. He put his hand on McGee's arm and shook his head, and McGee followed him down the stairs again.

They went down three more flights before they met the first rescue crews. Tony handed Cynthia off to one of the workers as he told them the floors had been cleared. Suddenly, there was a rumble and the building started to shake, followed by a horrific crash that caused everyone to hit the floor. When the shaking subsided, one of the rescue workers barked, "We need to get out of here, now. Everyone, head down, carefully as you can." The group started to descend and Tony turned to McGee, who was still crouched near the floor. He helped the younger man to his feet. "Time to go, Probie."

"But-."

"We got them all, Tim. Let's go."

XXX

Gibbs looked up in horror as the top floors of the building started to collapse. He was moving towards the building before he even realized it, only to be restrained by Fornell.

"There's nothing you can do, Gibbs. They'll make it out. You didn't give them permission not to, right?"

Gibbs just shook his head. He wouldn't relax until he knew for a fact his men were safe.

XXX

Tony had never been so happy to see an exit sign in his life. As they crossed the ruined lobby, he glanced over at his partner.

"You OK?"

McGee just nodded his head and kept walking. Finally they reached the exterior of the building and were shuffled towards a staging area several hundred yards away. In the confusion, Tony lost sight of McGee for a few moments and when he finally caught sight of the younger man, he was walking away from the emergency crews and towards where they had parked the sedan. Tony broke from the group and rushed to catch up, only to be brought up short by a familiar voice.

"_DiNozzo!"_

He turned to see Gibbs and Ziva rushing towards him, followed by Fornell.

_Ah great, just what I need. Fornell is probably going to blame me for all of this._

"Hey Boss, hey Ziva. Been here long?"

"Where's McGee?"

"He's…" Tony turned to point at his partner, just in time to see McGee sink bonelessly to the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: **Room for One More**

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda

A/N: This was more difficult to write than I expected. Sorry it took so long.

* * *

Part 3

The relief Gibbs felt when he saw Tony in the crowd of people coming out of the building was quickly dispelled when he saw McGee collapse. Ignoring the chaos around him, he ran to his agents with Ziva and Fornell on his heels. Tony had reached McGee just moments before and was already kneeling next to him, shaking him gently.

"Come on, Tim, you made it this far. Don't quit on me now."

"What happened, Tony?" asked Gibbs as he knelt on the other side of McGee's crumpled form. Ziva crouched next to McGee and started to speak softly to him while Gibbs checked for a pulse. He found one, weak and thready, and yelled over his shoulder for the paramedics before returning his attention to his men.

"It…I don't even really know, Boss." Tony looked up and his expression hardened. "Agent Fornell. What a surprise."

"What happened in there, DiNozzo? What did you see?"

"Not much. The building kind of blew up on us."

"Yeah, I noticed. You two were on the 20th floor, right? The rest of the people on that floor came down well over an hour ago. What were you doing?"

"Getting people out."

They all turned their attention to the two paramedics that had just arrived to help McGee.

"These two cleared all the top floors before they collapsed. The survivors told us about it." The paramedics started to work on the fallen man, barking commands in their strange lingo that Gibbs knew he'd never understand.

"That true, DiNozzo?" asked Fornell, his tone a little less confrontational.

"McGee's idea," said Tony. "He said he wanted to make sure no one else died." Gibbs could tell that there was something more that Tony wanted to say, but not in front of anyone else, especially Fornell.

"Why didn't you wait for the emergency crews?" Fornell pressed, and Gibbs was about ready to let him have it when Tony responded.

"Oh, gee, I don't know. You mean the crews we met on the way down, after we had cleared the top floors, and just before those floors _collapsed_?" Tony sent Fornell a disgusted look before turning to the paramedics. "How is he?"

"Not good. I'm surprised he made it out under his own power." He pulled out his two-way radio. "Need a bus, STAT. Moderate head injury, GCS of 10, possible slow subdural or intercranial bleed, and hypotensive with possible minor internal bleeding."

"Damn it, Probie, why didn't you…Will he be OK?"

"Hope so. We'll know more once we get him to the hospital." They carefully transferred McGee to the backboard and strapped him down. "Let's go."

The rest of the team followed as the paramedics carried McGee to the waiting ambulance. Once they had him secured to the gurney inside, Gibbs placed a hand on the older paramedic's arm.

"Do you have room for one more?" he asked, tilting his head towards Tony. He didn't notice the startled look that crossed his senior agent's face.

"Yeah, I think we do."

"Boss, I-."

"Go, Tony. You need to get checked out, too, and someone needs to be with Tim. We'll be there as soon as we can."

"OK, Boss."

"Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss?"

"Tell McGee-."

"He's not allowed to die."

Gibbs chuckled softly. "Tell McGee I'm proud of him. You, too, Tony. Tell him that when he wakes up."

"I will, Boss."

He helped Tony into the ambulance and turned to the younger paramedic.

"You'll take good care of them?"

"Of course, Sir.

Gibbs patted the man's shoulder and stood back as the paramedic climbed into the back of the bus with Tony and McGee. He wanted to follow them to the hospital, to make sure they were both OK, but he knew that right now the investigators of the bombing would need all the help they could get. Right now, he had some questions of his own that needed to be answered.

After the ambulance had pulled away, he turned to Fornell. "Tell me what you need, Tobias."

XXX

Two hours later, Tony was sitting in a small cubicle near the ER, an oxygen mask over his face. The doctors had ordered the O2 therapy as a precaution, given Tony's history of lung damage. Unable to move around much, he sat and worried about his partner. McGee had been taken to surgery to deal with the two areas of internal bleeding the ER doctors had confirmed. They had told Tony that the injuries were likely not life-threatening, but the fact that they had gone untreated for so long was cause for concern. Despite these assurances, Tony still worried that he wouldn't be able to relay Gibbs message. Then he remembered what _else_ Gibbs had said before Tony had boarded the ambulance.

"…_room for one more…"_

That phrase, casually uttered by Gibbs back at the site had jogged his memory.

_The elevator…_

He hadn't been able to resist getting a dig in at McGee's expense, not realizing that the younger man would react so strongly. Now, remembering what would have happened if he _had _stepped into that elevator, he started to shake. He owed McGee his life…again. After all the grief he had given his Probie, the kid still had his six. The one thing that was really bothering him, however, was exactly _how_ McGee had known the elevator was a death trap…

"Tony!"

He looked up just in time to see Abby rush toward him, intent on giving him one of her trademark hugs, and he held up a hand to try and stop her.

"Sorry, Abbs, still a little sore, here."

She paused and then gave embraced him gently. "I'm so glad you're OK. We saw the report on the news and when we found out you and Timmy were there…where is he?"

"Surgery," replied Ducky as he entered the room. "I spoke to the nurses and they expect he will be there for some time yet, but he should be fine," he added when he saw Abby's expression.

"What happened, Tony? They said it was a bomb."

"Yeah, it was in one of the elevators. The one I almost got on and Tim stopped me." He told them what had transpired and noticed the startled look on Ducky's face. "Ducky? Do you know something about this?"

The older man was silent for several moments before he replied. "Timothy spoke to me a few days ago, but requested that I not reveal the details of our conversation to anyone. I assure you, it is…_possible_ that it was a coincidence."

"You know we don't believe in those, Ducky," said Tony.

"No, I suppose you wouldn't. Nevertheless, I am sure you will be able to ask Timothy himself when he recovers. All _I_ ask is that you keep an open mind, Anthony."

Tony nodded. He was more worried about when he would be able to speak to McGee again. The topic of that conversation was not as important as the ability to have it.

They settled in to wait, both for news about McGee and from Gibbs and Ziva about the scene of the bombing. Finally, they received the former. One of the nurses stopped in to check on Tony and to tell them that McGee was in recovery.

"When can we see him?" Abby asked.

"As soon as we have him settled in his room. He'll probably sleep through the night, but you can stay with him for a little while at least."

"What's his prognosis?" Ducky asked, and the nurse gave him a smile.

"He should have a complete recovery, Dr. Mallard, but they are monitoring him closely since it appears he has been ill recently and his body is rather worn down from the strain."

"Ill? What were the indications?"

"He showed signs of dehydration, low blood sugar and potassium levels, and some acid erosion of the esophagus from repeated emesis…vomiting."

Tony cringed. McGee had been a lot worse than he had let on.

"I will make sure he takes better care of himself," Ducky assured her. "Thank you for letting me know."

"You're welcome. I'll take you to him as soon as he's settled. Mr. DiNozzo, I'll go get your discharge papers. Take it easy for the next day or two and you should be fine as well."

Tony just nodded. His mind was on his partner.

Several hours later, Tony was sitting next to McGee's bed, watching him sleep and hoping for some small sign that he was regaining consciousness. Abby and Ducky had left, under protest on Abby's part, but Tony had convinced the nurses to let him stay. He still had a message to deliver and he wanted to do so at the first opportunity.

"How is he?"

Startled, Tony looked up to see Gibbs and Ziva enter the room.

"Sleeping off a really bad week."

Gibbs chuckled softly. "Yeah, I can see that. Has he woken up yet?"

"No. They said I shouldn't be worried about that, but…"

"How badly was he injured?" asked Ziva as she moved to the side of his bed and gently touched his bruised face.

"Bad enough, but the doctor says he's going to be OK." Tony shook his head. "I still can't believe all this happened. Did they figure it out yet?"

"Still working on it, and they probably will be for awhile. We just finished interviewing the people you two managed to get out of the building. All I can say is that it was a good thing you were there. Now go home, Tony. Get some rest. Vance even gave you tomorrow off."

"Gee, how nice of him. But McGee-?"

"I've got it. Ziva will give you a ride home."

"Now I really want to stay." Ziva gave him a light punch in the arm and he managed a smirk. "OK, OK. If he wakes up, tell him-."

"I got it, Tony," said Gibbs with a slight smirk of his own.

"Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs took the vacated chair as Tony and Ziva left, bickering about who would do the actual driving. He settled in to wait, sincerely hoping his agent wouldn't disappoint him.

"When you're better, McGee, you and I are gonna have a talk…"

XXX

Tim McGee slowly opened his eyes and winced at the sudden increase in light, and then groaned as a wave of pain hit. Suddenly a familiar face was leaning over him.

"McGee?"

"Boss? What…happened?" He winced again at the weakness in his own voice and slowly surveyed his surroundings. "Hospital?" Gibbs nodded. "How bad?"

"Bad enough." He pushed the call button and soon a nurse entered the room. After checking him over and administering an analgesic at Gibbs' request, the two men were alone again. As the pain medication took effect, Gibbs silently studied him. Finally he asked another question.

"What do you remember?"

Tim tried to clear his mind and searched his still fuzzy memory. "Not much…we went to interview a witness, Tony and I." A sudden, terrible thought struck him. "Is he-?"

"He's fine."

"Oh. Good…"

"What else?"

"We were waiting for the elevator, and…" Suddenly he felt a twist of fear. "Oh, God…it was full, but…"

"One of the passengers told you there was room for one more."

Tim's eyes widened in surprise. "How-?"

"Tony told me. He then told me you kept him from getting on the elevator. Do you remember why?"

"Boss, I…I don't think you'll believe me."

"Try me. Does it have something to do with you not sleeping, not eating, and getting sick for a few days before?"

"How did you…? Did Ducky-?"

"He didn't tell me anything. Now why don't you tell me what was going on with you this past week?"

Reluctantly Tim told Gibbs about the strange recurring dream and its ominous warning, one that he could barely believe he had received and heeded. He waited for disbelief from Gibbs, but the older man listened intently and, when Tim finished, merely nodded. Surprised at the acceptance of his tale, Tim studied his Boss before hesitantly asking him a question.

"You…really believe me?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"'Cause I've _been_ there, McGee."

"You…what?"

"Difference was I was too far away to do anything about it. On the other side of the world."

"Oh God…Boss, I'm…I'm so sorry."

Gibbs chuckled dryly. "Pretty sure that wasn't your fault, McGee. But I am glad you could at least heed _your_ warning."

"So I…I saved Tony, but I…I'm sorry Boss, but I don't remember anything. There's a…sense of _wanting_ to help but…what happened? I don't even remember how I kept Tony out of the elevator."

Gibbs looked at him in surprise. "You don't remember anything?"

"It's all just a blank. I remember getting ready to leave the offices we went to visit, and then waking up here. What happened?"

"There was a bomb in that elevator. It took out a good chunk of the building when it went off, and eventually the top ten floors collapsed."

Tim felt the blood drain from his face and his stomach did a slow uneasy flip. He barely managed to roll away from Gibbs before he started to gag. He was only vaguely aware of a hand on his back as he fought the wave of nausea and when it finally subsided, he could barely stay upright. Strong but gentle hands rolled him back to a supine position and he closed his eyes, unable to look at the man helping him. He only tangentially registered the nurses returning to check him again as he remained lost in his guilt. He should have done more…

He was startled from his thoughts by a light tap on the back of his head and opened his eyes to find Gibbs staring at him.

"It wasn't your fault, Tim."

"How many? How many people died because-?"

"Some nut job decided to blow up a building? Not as many as could have, because of _you_."

"What?"

"You, and Tony, you cleared those top floors before they collapsed. You saved nearly one hundred people from being crushed to death, because you got them out, way ahead of the rescue crews."

"I did? But I don't…remember _any_ of that!"

"You had a pretty bad head injury, which might have something to do with it."

"I…I guess that makes sense. If it was that bad, then how did I-?

"No idea. I just know you did."

"Damn…sorry."

"No more apologies, Tim. You did good. You and Tony both. You really worked together, and I'm proud of you."

Tim blushed. It must have been bad for Gibbs to dole out such rare praise. He just wished he could remember…

"Probie! You're awake!"

He looked up to see his partner, grinning from ear to ear. "Hey, Tony."

Tony's grin faltered. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better, I guess."

"And you've been worse, trust me."

"So I've been told. How are you doing?"

"Ah, you know, same old routine. I've been bored without you around, though."

Tim chuckled weakly. "Thanks."

Gibbs watched the exchange and shook his head before rising from his chair.

"You OK now, Tim?"

"I…I don't know, Boss."

"You will be. That's an order."

"Yes, Boss…and thanks." Gibbs nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and left. Tim returned his attention to Tony and saw an uncharacteristic expression of worry on the older man's face. "You OK?"

"Yeah. What about you?"

"I…I can't believe this happened. I mean, I believe what Gibbs told me, but I don't remember any of it. It doesn't seem real."

"That's…probably a good thing, Tim."

"Why?"

"It was kind of scary."

"_You_ were scared?"

"No. I was freaking terrified." He grinned and suddenly grew serious. "I never…I never want to go through something like that again, but I'm really glad you were there. I didn't get a chance to thank you for saving me."

"Well…that's what partners are for, right?"

"You got _that_ right, Probie. One more thing: whenever you're ready to tell me what happened, I'm ready to listen. No jokes, no judgments, I promise. I'm…I'm really glad you were there, Tim, and…you're going to be OK. "

Tim felt the tightness in his chest loosen a little after hearing Tony's promise. Maybe it would be all right. Maybe…

XXX

Three days later, Tim sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for the nurse to bring a wheelchair so he could finally get out of the hospital. He had been subjected to a whole battery of tests and found fit to leave, yet his memory o the events remained a blank. Ducky suggested that it was a form of PTSD and that had been accepted by his doctors. Tim himself had tried to fill in the blanks by watching the news reports about the bombing, but found it to be too uncomfortable to hear, although he wasn't sure why. Eventually he decided to write it off as one of those things he would never understand, even though that acquiescence didn't really help…

"Timothy?"

He looked up. "Hey, Ducky. Are you my ride?"

"Yes. They informed me that it would only be a few more minutes to finalize your paperwork. How are you feeling?"

"I don't really know."

"Understandable, lad. I do suspect that you will feel better once you get back to work, and I am sure the others will be happy to see you back as well. Are you ready for your hero's welcome?"

"I don't really feel like a hero, Ducky. I mean, I just…did my job, right? I don't think I belong in that category."

"I don't think anyone would argue that you don't belong, Timothy. Why do you say that?"

"I didn't save everyone, Ducky."

Twenty-seven people had died in the bombing, including the bomber herself and her targets: her unfaithful husband and his lover, another lawyer in the same office. Her personal journal had revealed her plans and the reason: during a heated argument, her husband had laughed at her ignorance of the affair, claiming _"everyone at work knows. Hell, the whole __**building**__ knows," _and so she had taken her revenge on those she felt had failed her.

"We can never save everyone, Timothy. You _know_ this. What's really troubling you?"

"I…I feel like I screwed up somehow. I know: there's no way I could have known, not really, but…"

"You think you should have taken that 'warning' more seriously." They had discussed Tim's dreams, with Ducky assuring him that such things were not unheard of, and could be both a blessing and a curse.

"I'm afraid I do have a name for what you're feeling, lad. It's survivor's guilt. It is difficult to deal with, but please understand that what you feeling in no way negates the good that you have done."

Tim was about to reply when he heard a light knock on the door. He turned and saw a woman on crutches standing in the doorway.

"Uh, hi. Tim, right? I'm not sure if you remember me. I'm Cynthia Harris. You helped me after the bomb exploded in my building. You helped me get out, when everyone else left me behind, and I…I know it's not much, but I just wanted to thank you."

Tim managed to give her a sincere smile. "You're welcome. I'm glad you're OK."

"Thanks to you…and your partner. You two really _are_ heroes." She held out her hand and Tim rose and walked over to her to accept it. She grasped his hand in her own for a few seconds before reaching up and kissing him on the cheek. She blushed and released him before turning and hobbling away. As Tim watched her leave he realized, that for the first time, he had some tangible proof of what he had done. He still wasn't sure how he felt about it, but…

After a few moments he heard a soft chuckle from Ducky and Tim turned to face him. The older man placed his hand on Tim's shoulder, looked at him and grinned. "As I was saying, Timothy…in the brotherhood of Heroes, my dear boy, there is always room for one more."

THE END

* * *

The idea for this story came from an old ghost story I read when I was a kid. If it seems familiar, maybe you read it once, too ;D


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